


He's My Brother

by GLuisa88



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Drama, Gen, Hurt Dean Winchester, hurt!Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-03
Updated: 2014-02-03
Packaged: 2018-01-11 00:15:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1166313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GLuisa88/pseuds/GLuisa88
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU retelling of No Rest for the Wicked - for the promt: After hiding symptoms for months, either Sam or Dean is diagnosed with a terminal/life-threatening disease and must say goodbye to the other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	He's My Brother

  
**Now**

Bobby stands near the window, a near empty bottle of jack in his hand. The clock ticks 11:31. The Colt tucked into the waistband of his jeans presses into his back as an unpleasant reminder of what he’s waiting for.

He’s been waiting ever since he woke up far too early that morning. Didn’t need to have the date penciled into his calendar, it was burned into his brain.

Bobby watches the clock. Each second that goes by strengthens Bobby’s hope that his visitor won’t show.

No such luck. The doorbell rings just as the clock hits 11:33.

“Can’t say as I’m glad to see you, Dean,” Bobby says standing aside to let Dean past him.

“Yeah,” Dean scrubs a hand over his face, “I’d have been here sooner. Got stopped by a demon cop on my way.”

“Didn’t leave us much time for chatting.” And it strikes Bobby how much this bothers him. “Just, ‘hey Bobby, bye Bobby’. That’s how this is gonna be?”

Dean shrugs, “That’s what I was hoping for.”

“Well fuck you.”

Dean blows out a breath and looks away, “It’s been a rough day, Bobby.”

Bobby sighs too. He’s done his research, he can’t imagine but he thinks he understands what Dean is facing. The hallucinations, the nightmares, the terror of the whole damn situation.

“Alright, ok, just sit down,” He says, pushing Dean down into a chair. “Have a drink. Let me say goodbye.”

…

“Did I ever tell you ‘bout when I first met you and that kid brother of yours?”

Dean shakes his head no.

“Your dad was goin’ on a hunt. Needed some place to drop you kids off at and I said, well, I’m not one for kids, you know. But I got an extra bed and a couch and I’ll keep an eye on them for you.

"You couldn’t’ve been more than seven, eight at the oldest. Sammy was about four I’d say. He was terrified of me. I could tell by the way he was gripping your hand real tight.”

Bobby wiped the back of his hand across his eyes and continued, “You didn’t talk much. Fact, first two days or so the only times I heard you talk was when you were talkin’ to Sammy or when you were talking to that ol’ mutt of mine.”

Dean grins, rubs his finger along the rim of his beer bottle.

Bobby takes a shaky breath, “You and your brother, you break my heart.”

**15 Minutes Ago**

Dean can hear the hell hounds in the distance. If he weren’t such a selfish bastard, he’d stay in the car and let them tear him to shreds. But he is a selfish bastard and he would prefer a bullet to the head to the teeth of Hell bitches.

**Five Hours Ago**

“Hey Sam,” Dean says as he grabs his coat. He can’t meet his brother’s eyes. “I’m headin’ out. Bobby needed help with a hunt.”

Sam’s head jerks up from his laptop, “Wait, what?”

“Helpin’ Bobby with a hunt,” Dean repeats.

“And I’m not invited?”

“It’s a real quickie Sam, just a two man job. ‘Sides we got the Norman ghost we’re working on. You can finish that one up by yourself, right?”

Sam blinks, too pissed to know what to say. “Just, ‘hey Sam, I’m outta here?’” He finally spits out.

“Sam, don’t. Please. I don’t want to fight.” Dean struggles with words. He doesn’t want this to be Sam’s last memory of him. He doesn’t want this regret.

The confusion is plain on Sam’s face, unable to comprehend Dean’s sudden passivity, “For so long, man, there’s been something wrong with you. It’s like, when Azazel died, you did too. I just want you back. Tell me, Dean. If there’s shit you’re dealing with, you can tell me.”

Dean ducks his head. He doesn’t want Sam to see the tears that are gathering in his eyes. He takes a shaky breath and sets his duffel back on the ground.

“Just shut up and give me a hug, Sam.”

“Dean. You’re scaring me man, you’re really scaring me.”

“Cause I asked for a hug?”

“Yes!”

“Just shut up, bitch, and hug me!”

**Three Months Ago**

He worries about what Sam will do when he’s no longer around and it feels incredibly arrogant to think that his existence is so vital to his brother that Sam will just fall to pieces without him around to hold him together.

Still, it keeps him up at night. He tries to distract himself by watching infomercials set on mute, pretending he can lip read what they are saying.

Sam notices the circles under Dean’s eyes, the false smile that’s always on his face. The recklessness with which he hunts.

“It’s as if you were begging that shifter to tear you apart, Dean! What the hell is your problem?” Dean’s feels Sam’s hot breath against his shoulder as Sam sews back together the skin on his back.

“And it’s not just this, Dean. You don’t sleep, you’re evasive, and you just don’t care anymore. About anything!”

“Yeah, that sounds like me,” Dean says, wincing in pain. “Goddammit, Sam. You’re a butcher.”

He takes a swig of whiskey and ignores any further questions from his brother.

**Eleven Months Ago**

“Now that Yellow Eyes is gone,” Dean says,“You gonna head back to Stanford. Become Mr. Hot Shot Lawyer?”

“I’m not leaving you,” Sam tells Dean. “If that’s what you’re asking.” He scrunches up his face as if Dean is crazy to even think that he would.

“No, that’s not what I’m asking. I’m saying we should quit. Hunting. It’s what you want, isn’t it? I mean, it doesn’t have to be Stanford, you know.  
If you’re worried about not getting back in. You could go to UCLA. Or hell, you don’t have to go to college at all. You could open up a bookstore. Buy a couple of cats- you can be that guy- ”

“Are you trying to get rid of me?” Sam laughs, though his eyes are serious, confused.

“What? No! It’s just, you always said, once Yellow Eyes is gone-“

“Yeah, did you forget there are a shit ton of demons out there and I helped let them out. What about the family business?”

Yeah, fuck the family business, Dean doesn’t say. The family business is what got his entire family killed.

“Yeah, whatever,” Dean turns away. “Just… if I get killed, you’ll get out, right? You’ll forget hunting.”

“If there was something wrong, you would tell me, right?” Sam pleads, and Dean doesn’t know where this is coming from. He’d thought he’d been pretty stealthy, Mr. Cool about the whole thing.

But then, Sam’s always been sharp as a tack. Watching, catching things when you don’t even realize he’s looking.

"There’s nothing wrong. I’ve told you that."

"But if there was, would you tell me?” Sam’s not buying Dean’s denials but Dean’s not planning on giving him anything else.

"Yeah," Dean lies, plasters on a smile that he hopes looks more sincere than it feels, "Of course. Always."

**Twelve Months Ago**

“I couldn’t let him die, Bobby. I couldn’t. He’s my brother.”

“How is your brother gonna feel when he knows your going to hell? How’d you feel when you knew your dad went for you?”

“You can’t tell him. You take a shot at me, whatever you got to do, but please don’t tell him.”

**Now**

The clock strikes 11:55. Five minutes left. Dean rises to his feet, his eyes dart nervously around him, searching every corner for something Bobby can’t see. His body vibrates with tension and his face is white.

“Alright,” He says. “Just do it Bobby.”

Bobby rises to his feet too and pulls the gun from his waistband. “Close your eyes,” He instructs Dean.

A slight smile plays at the corner of Dean’s lips, perhaps more of a grimace. “Thank you Bobby. Thank you for this, for everything.”

Bobby nods but doesn’t say anything. Can’t squeeze words past the tightness in his throat.

Dean screws his eyes shut. Bobby raises the colt to Dean’s temple, sucks in a sharp intake of breath and wishes to hell he’d never met John Winchester all those years ago. Thinks that if he could, he’d go and take it all back.

Dean’s eyes blink open and he throws out a hand to grip Bobby’s arm in a halting gesture and Bobby wonders if Dean’s changed his mind.

“Watch out for Sammy, would’ya, Bobby?”

“Yeah, of course.” Dean hadn’t even needed to ask.

Dean closes his eyes again. Bobby closes his too and pulls the trigger.

**The End**  



End file.
